In the meantime, here’s a fun one:
…you’ve walked in on your renter, sans knocking, repeatedly. Despite her requests not to do that.
…you’ve nosed through your renter’s stuff. It’s always good to know what your renter’s up to. She says she’s just an English teacher, but WHO KNOWS?! Better make sure.
…you’ve invited total strangers to wander around the apartment while your tenant, in pajamas and with unbrushed hair, is asking what you’re doing there. Why, renting out her extra bedroom to someone else, of course!
Oh wait, that’s only if you’re my landlady.
(Yes, I’m moving.)
Many years ago, I participated in HUD’s Section 8 Housing program. (It’s a government assisted housing program, which pays all or a portion of rent for a low income family.) When I first became eligible for the program, we rented from a man who had several Section 8 rental properties. We lived there for about three years, and when we left, I met him at the house so he could do a final walk through to inspect the property. (I’d requested it.) I’d just had the carpets cleaned, and they were still wet, so we did the walk through in a rather weird way, clinging to the edge of the walls to avoid walking completely on the wet carpeting. He was very surprised when he’d arrived and found the carpets newly cleaned. (With three kids, the carpets had become somewhat dirty, and I didn’t want to leave them dirty.) The landlord was so disappointed that I was moving, that he literally cried when I left. (I was moving across the country to finish my education.)
I’m still a renter, although not on Section 8 housing anymore. I’ve been in the same house now for 8 years, and it was the original house I lived in when I first moved to the area and was still on Section 8. When I graduated from college, and got a full time job, and no longer qulified for Section 8, I told my landlord that I’d like to remain in the house. That was over 5 years ago.
Each year, per requirements of Section 8, the house would need to be inspected by a Section 8 Housing Inspector. Each year (we had the same man), he would come and we’d spend a lot of time talking about how nice and clean and well cared for my home was, and some of the horror stories he’d seen as a housing inspector. (He’d still do the inspection of my house, as required.) He once told me about how so many of the houses he inspects, he walks in the door and is attacked by fleas–they’d just jump on his pants at the first step he’d take into the room. He told me about people whose houses are very similiar to what many have posted here.
Yes, I’m a renter, and I’ll probably never buy my own house for a variety of reasons. However, I still live there, regardless of who owns it. There’s no way I want to live in filth, or a pest infested house, or one that is falling apart. It’s really a matter of respect–not only the property, but of ones self.
I remember once when we moved out of an apartment we rented, we’d left a stain about a foot wide on the living room carpet that we couldn’t get cleaned. I felt really bad about that stain. The rest of the place was cleaned, but I hated leaving a stain on the carpet that had not been there before we’d moved in.
Boy, I sure don’t feel bad about it anymore.
I learned a very important lesson yesterday. Fleas are much easier to identify when they’re out in the sun. We’re getting our own house sprayed for bugs today on the concern that we took some guests home with us.
Their stuff is now 100% out of the house (at least that we know of - I only did a cursory inspection of the attic, since it’s pretty inaccessable.) We found some pretty interesting stuff as we hauled it out, none of it salvagable or sellable. The fridge that they moved into there, unpowered, had food in it all along, the average temperature in the garage is 90 degrees F. There must have been a young boy, somewhere around the age of 10 or so, based on the soiled underwear tucked away with the broken large-screen TV. They left a small commemoritive activity book from a summer charity program run by the Texas Rangers baseball team - including a photo of the 10 year old kid. We don’t know if the kid actually lived there or not.
Then it was back into the house to finish cleaning. All told, between myself and my in-laws, we put about 40 hours of cleaning into the house, and the carpets will be done today. After that, a final round of mopping the floors, then an abusive amount of pesticide will be levied against the remaining multilegged residents.
I had nightmares again last night about filth, this time I was cleaning it off my daughters. I tried to wipe away the hairy grit with towels, but it only took off the top layer. When I scrubbed with Pine-Sol and a sponge, they screamed. I also have developed a fear that I have bugs all over me.
After speaking with the neighbors, we got a clearer picture of the situation. The mom worked graveyard shift, and kicked the kids out of the house when she got home. When she was at work, they partied, with large groups, loudly. After the cops were called on our tenants for the second time, is apparently when the rent stopped coming in. It only took them them a month.
This has really opened my eyes about how some people live. No conscience, no discipline, no excuses offered. And now for the first time, after ten years in this business, I have no sympathy for one of my tenants.
A friend of ours owns several rental houses in low income areas.
My husband wanted to get into doing the exact same thing.
Our friend said, " You don’t want to do that. You will end up fishing barbie doll heads out of the Ubend of the toilet at 3am. These people are too stupid for words."
My father-in-law, who’s owned rentals for more than 30 years, uses the word “renter” as an explicative. (Never mind that these renters made him a lot of money, enough for him to retire before age 60.) There’s a truism in there, somewhere, to be sure. It only takes a few bad apples to ruin the experience.